


I can only describe you in lyrics

by Mooney_01



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, PTSD, Swearing, fred weasley is alive, hermione is so nice, kinda sad, mature scenes, next gen harry potter, percy died instead, sad song lyrics, song lyrcis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooney_01/pseuds/Mooney_01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred is damaged.</p>
<p>Hermione is whole.</p>
<p>The war is over. But the Weasley's are still dealing with the death of their son and brother, Percy. Some more worse than others. For Fred, another war is waging, the one in his mind, one that could possibly drive him to ending his life. </p>
<p>Only one person can carry him out of the wreckage of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is the first of many Chapters for my Fremione fanfic, I hope you enjoy and stuff x

**_My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost,_ **

**_I need to feel something, cause I'm still so far from home_ **

**Chapter One**

 

The Burrow was surprisingly quiet on that April twentieth. Even the trees didn’t dare to whisper the winds secrets, the wood of the house didn’t creak or squeak and the kettle didn't scream. It was unsettling to say at least, for Hermione Granger; the witch was used to the constant murmuring of chatter, or Molly yelling at on of her many children. Without all the hustle and bustle, The Burrow felt like an empty shell, and abandoned.

She sighed, gathering her feet beneath her, settling herself in a comfortable position on the sofa, a book propped in one hand, a mug of green tea in the other. But for some reason, her mind kept straying from the jumble of words scribbled on the page below her and Hermione was feeling her patience for the book slip further and further away. Without all the movement and colours around her, she was unable to feel comfortable, which then meant she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Another sigh departed her mouth as she threw her book to the side and brought her mug to her lips, taking a small sip. Where was everyone? Where they going to be gone all day? Where they alive? Quickly, Hermione craned her neck to glance at the Weasley's clock. The small panic she had set herself in soon vanished when she saw that everyone’s hands were on _Diagon Alley_ and tried to get comfy , grasping the book once again . Her own hand was at _Home_. Molly had added hers and Harry’s names to some spoons after The Battle of Hogwarts, saying that she had already lost one child, she couldn’t bear to know whether or not her other children were safe or not. It would be an understatement to say that Hermione was touched by those words, she’d always looked at Molly as a second mother, a role model and to hear that Molly had mutual feelings, well, it had made the young Witch burst out in tears.

A smile danced across her lips at the memory and how Mrs Weasley had grabbed her and Harry into a bone crushing hug and when she let go, the teenagers gasped for breath, making sure their lungs weren’t punctured. It wasn’t until that day that Hermione had truly felt part of the Weasley’s, even though she was dating Ron, she had felt as if something had separated her from the rest of the family...Perhaps it was the lack of fiery red hair that identified the Weasleys. None of those feelings mattered now. She was part of their family, she knew that now. Ever since Percy’s death, the family reached out to Hermione and made sure that she knew they cared, that she was one of them, red headed or not.

“What are you doing here?” a voice broke her train of thought.

“Why should it matter? I do live here now,” she replied, not looking back. She knew who it was, he walked over, the sound of his footsteps and rustling of his dress robes filling the silence, With a flash of magenta, Fred Weasley flopped down beside her, or, across her, arm slung over the back of the sofa, fingertips grazing the skin of her shoulder and long legs sprawled across her knees. Hermione raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, but he just grinned bashfully back.

“Trust me I didn’t forget, you are in mine and Gred’s old room, it’s upsetting to see it filled with so many _girly_ things,”

She hit him on the arm with the book clutched in her hands.” You ass,”

“Now that’s something I still can’t get over,” he grinned,” You swearing, it’s weird,”

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione reached to place down her book and grasp her tea,’ Well,’ she took a sip and glanced back at the lanky red head, ‘Get used to it. Besides it’s your fault anyway,”

Fred mocked a hurt expression, placing his hands over his heart,” ‘Mione you wound me! You can’t blame me for your crude behaviour! I reckon you’ve always been a potty mouth, just hid it well,”

She scoffed. She hadn’t been lying that Fred and George had influenced her enough that she now swore and it didn’t stop there. Not only did she now have a habit of swearing profoundly, she was starting her journey of a Prankster. So far, she had gotten Bill, Harry and Ginny and had received a _‘Congratulations you’re now a mischievous devil,_ ’ cake from Fred and George. In the past year, the Twins had become very important to Hermione, they were her support after the War had finished; Harry was gone for a few months with Ginny, to sort his head out and make sure Teddy was okay, and Ron...Ron hid himself in his room every day and night, leaving now and then and returning either days or weeks later.

She had had no one.

Until that night, the Twins were staying at The Burrow and Fred had walked past her bedroom and heard her sobs. He came in and hugged her and that was it, the start of an unlikely friendship.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she asked, “ What about the shop?”

Fred stretched, cracking his neck and groaning softly,, “George reckoned I needed a break, he treats me like some kind of baby,”

“Well, you did have a wall collapsed down on top of you,” Hermione reminded him, her eyes instantly drawn to the the right side of Fred’s suit. Under the robes, she knew a long, jagged scar stained his freckled skin, if she looked close enough, she could see the top of it slip out slightly above his dress robe.

“Yeah, I think I know that,’ he yawned, throwing his head back, meaning that Hermione was watching his adam’s apple bob with each word he spoke, “ But I just wish that he, no, everyone would treat me _normal_ , I mean...I don’t know,”

Hermione shifted under the weight of Fred’s legs, waiting a moment before speaking,” Fred, it’s only been a year, your family ar-”

“Are stilling adjusting to life without Percy and are worried that my injuries will cause me trouble, blah blah, blah, no offence Hermy, but I know, you’ve said it like, ten billion times,” he looked up at her and grinned, “ I had a dream, you know, that it was me who died,”

‘’Fred,’’

‘’No, no listen. Then after that, you and Ronniekin’s got married, Harry with Ginny and you guys had kids and everything was happy, and sometimes I wonder, if it should have been that way,’’ his voice was heavy, low.

Hermione pushed his legs of of hers, eyes fixed on his face,’ Fredrick Weasley, how dare you! You know damn well that the way everyone is feeling right now, would apply to your death. And, oh, just imagine George, he’d be lost without you. I - I’d be lost without you! So stop talking a load of crap!’’ Fred didn’t say anything, just looked past Hermione, concentrating on the kitchen table.

Then suddenly, his signature grin grew across his face, reaching his ears.

‘Got cha’” he grinned, but it did not reach his eyes.

Hermione felt her stomach twist in a tight knot, the urge to beat Fred to death with her book was close enough to unbearable but she held back, digging her bitten fingernails into the hardcover of the novel. Sometimes, Fred made jokes that Hermione hated with a deep passion, such as this one, where he would ever so slightly let her peek into his mind, a place very difficult to gain insight on. The witch sometimes thought it was probably a place similar to a Blackhole. His consciousness was once a bright galaxy, grey, white and gold stars scattered across this universe; a beautiful sight, magnificent and left her in awe whenever he would paint a new idea. But then, the War crept in, shrouding all the light, consuming all his happy thought, gorging on them until fat and satisfied, leaving behind not a galaxy, but a swirling black hole of self hatred and guilt.

It was saddening.

To see such a bouncy spirit, crushed by the cruel world.

And makes the clown laugh?

Fred grabbed her hands, abruptly dragging Hermione back into the world of reality, and she blinked, before turning her gaze to look at him. His brown eyes were squashed by his eyebrows as he squinted at her nails, then peered back into her eyes, tutted and shook his head. The witch pulled back her hand. “You’ve been biting your nails again,” he stated, ” Nasty little habit,”

Hermione scoffed,” Says the one with no nails whatsoever,”

“Yeah listen to one’s experience,” he grinned,” Just think of me as your nail biting prevention professor,” This made Hermione laugh.

She threw her head back, feeling the laugh slip past her lips before looking back towards the red head. He was watching her with irises that were churning like a calm sea.

“That would be an interesting subject,”

He gave a nod as a reply, before kicking his legs back up onto Hermione’s knees. She didn’t protest, the weight was very familiar, and it eased her mind. Fred crossed his arms behind his head, arched his back just a little bit, before settling back down and yawning. The witch reached to take another sip of tea, and opened her book again. Within ten minutes, both had fallen asleep, Hermione’s ocean of hair spilling across Fred’s hips, arms wrapped around his waist lazily. At last, she could concentrate, but not on her book, on her wildest dreams and imagination.


	2. 2 Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred really needs Hermione.
> 
> ( Listen to 2 Trees by Foals)

Don't let go, just breathe slow  
So hold on, it will pass  
Don't give up, don't let go  
Grey clouds, they'll, they'll break up

…  
…

George pulled open the door to his and Fred’s apartment swiftly, ushering in the bushy haired girl, one hand gripping onto his hair, tugging. Hermione turned and looked into his swirling brown eyes, her own filled with a sea of empathy and care; she place a reassuring hand on his forearm, giving a little squeeze. George could not comprehend nor explain how such a small gesture, one so gentle, could settle his nerves. It felt as if a weight had been pulled off his back, and his shoulder blades separated, allowing him to breathe deeply and calmly.

Hermione’s voice was placid, “Where is he?”

“ In his room,’ the red head jerked his chin down the corridor, but grabbed the Witch’s wrist as she turned, “ He’s… bloody drunk again, and, oh, I don’t know, in a mood and I just don’t know what to do-” George’s voice broke off in a croak.

Hermione smiled softly, laying her free hand against his cheek, stubble brushing roughly against her skin as she turned his head to look at her. He avoided her eyes.

“ George,”

“ I’m his twin, I’m supposed to be able to help him,” he sniffled, releasing his hold on Hermione’s wrist, “ But I just can’t! I feel so useless, pathetic… as if I can’t do anything for him, my other half,” he wiped his face with the back of his arm.

The Witch felt her heart break further, throat clog as if cold fingers had climbed their way up her oesophagus and had wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed, cutting off her air supply. It was unsettling to see the infamous Weasley Twins both break down into a million pieces, one being soft and shattered, crying out for help and comfort, whereas the other composed of hard edges that cut at the slightest touch. They were becoming more distant from each other. As if a whole ocean was between them, filled with roaring seas and howling winds, seeming impossible to cross.

But Hermione was going to be their lighthouse. She would guide them back to the comfort of love and compassion, gather all the remains of their smiles and laughs, glue them back together and repair them. Her one ambition was to fix the two boys before they were lost to the past, impossible to recover.

“Georgie,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, so that his head was nestled gently beneath her chin, listening to the fast pace of her heart, “ Both you and Fred; your whole family, are going through changes, tough changes. Percy’s death… Percy’s death destroyed some part of everyone, opened our eyes to how the war really was, and everyone’s just adapting, dealing with feelings and thoughts that are pretty unimaginable. 

You’re not failing Fred. You’re trying your best, but you can’t be expected to look after yourself and him, you’re gonna need some help at times and that’s perfectly fine. After all, you’re just a Human. “ She released his head, and he nodded, eyes locked onto the ground.

One more pat to his prickly cheek, and Hermione turned, walking down the hallway to the room she knew all too well. Before entry, the Witch prepared herself for the emotional torture she knew she was about to experience, many of her talks with Fred in this state left her as a sobbing mess. 

She inhaled sharply.

The door pushed open to reveal a ransacked room, papers with detailed drawings of products and annotations littered the floor, the bed, draws; some ripped, some covered in ink, others burnt or crisped at edges. Books were tossed here and there, as if thrown halfway through a read in frustration. One wall had a large fist sized shape concave scarring it harshly. Hermione watched her feet as she stepped further into the place, eyes scanning for Fred amongst the wreckage. Merlin, did it remind the witch of how her and the Weasley’s desperately threw rocks and bricks aside, hunting for both Fred and Percy. The same burning fear was boiling in her stomach as she picked her way through the carnage; who knew what Fred could do to himself in this state?

After checking under the bed, Hermione turned, certain that Fred was actually in his en-suite bathroom rather than the mess of his room. She pushed through the second door, finding Fred laying in his bath, crying silently. 

She was rooted to the spot, pain rolling swiftly down her back as she stared at him. His hair was plastered to his head, which was hung low, between his crossed arms. The muscles in his back were tense and toned and Hermione remembered that Fred had become more active to try deal with stress. They rolled softly under his milky yet stained with fawn speckles skin as he moved. Hermione shook her head, suddenly remembering why George had asked for her to come in the first place and slowly approached the broken man.

He had heard her hitched breath when she entered the room, but was too tired and sore to turn and look at her… and ashamed. No one needed to know that he, Fred Weasley, was indeed this weak. But somehow, despite all his attempts, Hermione always found a way to get in between all the cracks and holes in his defense, witnessing the weak, broken boy he believed he was beneath. 

She placed a lightly tanned hand upon his shoulder. It was a huge contrast to the white skin below it. Still, he did not move, he didn’t acknowledge the contact, instead, brought his knees closer together, hiding his red eyes.  
“Fred,” her voice was a barely a whisper and he could hear the tears that were pouring down her cheeks, “Fred, look at me,”

He didn’t.

Hermione bit her tongue, then, as gently as she could, slid her hand into his arms and pulled his chin to look at her. His brown eyes were rimmed red, watery, revealing his pain and fear. Hermione inhaled again.

Fred bit his lip, trying his goddamn hardest to prevent the tears from falling, but he failed miserably. The Wizard wanted to pull away, to go hide in a hole somewhere far, far away, but Hermione tightened her hold on him.

“Leave, go, please,”

She shook her head, instead, she decided she was going to pull him into her, engulfing Fred into her arms, holding him close. After a few clear seconds of indecisiveness, he responded back, fingers suddenly grasping at Hermione, pulling and holding back. His back shook with sobs, they broke through him as he trembled beneath her and Hermione kicked off her shoes, slowly dipping herself into the bath tub. She ignored Fred’s nudity, instead, concentrated on comforting him.

Softly, she ran her hand up on down his spine, sending shivers throughout his body. Minutes slugged by as the pair clung to each other, Fred depending on Hermione as if she was his living lifebuoy, tying him to the will to live, the will to carry on and fight.

Hermione’s jeans clutched onto her legs uncomfortably, and the tub was too small to hold both of them, but she put aside her discomfort, instead concentrated on trying to get the redhead to speak his twisted mind.

“What happened?” her voice was soft and Fred lent further into her touch when she spoke.

At first, he was resilient, shaking his head and refusing to speak, but, after a few more prodding questions and gentle touches, Fred cracked underneath her.

Hermione wanted to say she had never heard this tone of Fred’s voice, never once heard how dull and broken he could sound, but unfortunately, she had. She had heard it so many times, it haunted her at night in her torments. 

“It should have been me,”

“No, it should have been no one,”

“He had such a life before him, he was just b-becoming part of the family again,” he sobbed, pulling away from Hermione’s grip, “He was smart! He was with Penelope! He had his whole life ahead of him,”

“And what about you? What about the life you have ahead of you?” Hermione’s voice was raised a little, angry bubbling away in her stomach as she stared at her friend, wishing she could show him how important he had become to her. How his life was just as equally important.

A storm cloud passed over Fred’s eyes. “ What have I done with this life? Asides from waste it?”

Hermione felt her jaw clench.

“You have brought light to so many people’s lives after the war with inventions you made, you idiot! You helped me, your mother! You’re one of the most respected and loved Wizards ever and you dare to say you have done nothing?” Hermione stared hard into his eyes,” Percy would be ashamed, to see you sat here, wishing away your life when he gave his so you could live,” she placed a palm on his chest, over his heart,” He’s still here, he wouldn’t want you to hate the life he gave you,”

Fred stared at the Witch before him.

She had sat in a bath with him, fully clothed, to comfort him and verbally kick his ass. She had hugged him when he felt like he was pulling pulled apart, limb by limb, and eased his pain. She hadn’t been awkward about his nudity, nor bring it up, instead concentrated on him and Fred couldn’t express his gratitude. The way he felt was so beautiful, it pained him, a dull ache ebbing at his chest as he looked at her.

Her hair was pulled back, out of her face by a single hairband, however, some wisps escaped the ponytail and curled around her face, looking like brown swirls of smoke. Her jeans were pinned to her legs and the oversized jumper she wore looked heavy and weighed down.

A pang of guilt stabbed Fred in the stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to push the words out of his closing throat.

She nodded, then rose from the tub, finding her wand and performing a simple warming charm and her clothes returned to their original state. 

“You need to start talking to people Fred,” she whispered, “ Sometimes I worry I won’t be able to make you see sense… and then, I’d lose you.”

“I promise, I’m going to try,”

She sighed, exhausted,” You always say that,” and sat on the edge of the bath, turning the hot water tap. Fred watched as her slender fingers wrapped around the cog, feeling a flush stained his neck and ears as he realized that Hermione was drawing him a bath.  
He reached for her hand, squeezing it softly,” No, I mean it this time,”

Brown stared into brown eyes, one searching for answers in the other. Hermione dropped her head, sighing and then smiled, squeezing back.

“I hope so,” was all she replied with before returning to her task.

She let the warm water flow, then rummaged through the numerous amounts of bottles on the shelves, fingers grazing along the curve of all of them, settling on a purple coloured one. Approaching the tub, she raised an eyebrow.

“Will this turn your skin purple?”

Fred chuckled,” No,”

“What a shame,”

Popping the top, she squirted some of it in, watching as lilac drops collided with the water and caused firework like spirals to exploded through the liquid. It was beautiful. The spiral’s never ceased their twirling, and the Witch was memorised by them.

“ We called them Swirling Tides,” Fred said, watching as she stared intently at the water around him, “ They were a pain in the ass to make,”

“ They’re beautiful,’ she looked up at him, causing him to blush.

Then, she rose, giving him some room to wash as she attending to the post hurricane mess that was meant to be his bedroom. With waves of her wand, the books sprung from the floor, sliding neatly back onto the bookshelf, some had pages that needed to reattach themselves first. The wall sewed itself back together and the bed dressed itself, the blanket falling neatly over the top. In a mere few seconds, the room had returned to normal.  
Hermione grabbed a towel from the wardrobe, along with a pair of underwear and entered the bathroom again, laying them on the floor beside the tub. Fred smiled softly at her as she left, allowing him to change. When he walked into his room, his eyes widened at the neatness, vaguely remembering that he had destroyed the place beforehand. 

“You’re gonna have to teach me that spell ‘Mione,” he said.

She grinned, pushing his softly to his bed, pulling back the blanket and guiding him in before pulling the duvet back over him. In that moment, in that light, something about Hermione made Fred’s heart stutter. He held his breath.

“Well, if you had stayed in school Mcgonagall would have taught you it,” she brushed a small hand against his cheek softly,” Are you okay Fred?”

Quilt resurfaced as he glanced into her worried, doe eyes. Fred gave a brief nod,” Thank you, seriously,”

“It’s fine,” she whispered, rising to her feet,” I want you to rest okay?”

The Wizard nodded, and Hermione smiled at him one last time before leaving the room. Fred pressed himself further into the soft mattress of his bed, replaying the image of Hermione’s smile in his mind, falling asleep to the sound of her voice as she spoke to George.

He knew she was right. The pain would leave one day.


	3. You Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time.  
> Don't read if you're like two XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Hotel Andrea by Blackbear. It feels like a Fremione song (and a bit Reylo)  
> Anyway, sexxxxy time so don't read if you're like two -- LEAVE NOW!  
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading/Kudos.

You burn inside of me  
You're burnin' inside of me  
You burn  
And I'm still alive in you  
I'm still alive  
I'm still on fire for you  
It's burning inside  
…  
…

“How do I look?”

Hermione’s jaw was lax, open in shock as she looked upon Ginny. Her best friend had always been pretty, with long legs and a slim figure, but she had always hidden it under baggy clothing or Quidditch gear, but staring at her in her wedding dress, Hermione was gobsmacked.

Recently, the two Witches had gone shopping in the Muggle world and Ginny’s dress showed obvious inspiration from ones they had spotted.

It was long and tight, clutching comfortably to the slim Witch’s body, holding her in a soft embrace, when the white fabric hit the floor, it exploded out into a small circle that mirrored the moon. Lace danced up the white painting, blanketing the V cut that exposed the smallest cleavage and rolled down her arms softly. However, what made the dress was the missing lace in the back, a diamond patch of freckled skin stood out against the snow white material, memorising the other Witch. 

Hermione’s lips widened into a grin,” Gin, you look amazing. Harry’s a lucky Wizard,”

Ginny grinned back at her, wisps of flame red hair showering her face, “ Okay, I’m ready,”

. . .  
. . .

Hermione swirled the glass of red wine in her hand.

From where she was stood, she watched the couple dance on the floor. Similar to two flames of fire flickering, spinning and swirling before combining to become one brighter flame -- that was Harry and Ginny. They were surrounded by a sea of lovers and friends, all swaying as one to the low music.

The bushy haired Witch took a sip from her glass.

She felt lonely.

Once, she would have never admitted it, but now, there was no denying that she felt as if part of her were missing. Looking at the people dancing, holding each other, Hermione felt something inside of her contract, a pain ebbing away at her chest. She knew it was longing. 

Part of her was disappointed that she hadn’t been noticed tonight, she had purposely gone out of her way to look nice. 

Her chosen gown was darker than night, and it clung to her curvy figure, hugging her small waist and making her bottom swell. It was cut in a V, plunge style, giving glimpses of her breasts. It swirled out at the bottom, similar to Ginny’s, just when she moved, it looked like she was walking on shadows. But, for Hermione, her favorite part was the way it sparkled. Thousands upon thousands of sequins adorned her Bridesmaid dress, and when the lanterns, that floated in the air, lights hit it, they all sparkled like the stars in the night sky. 

She felt somewhat non- Human.

But apparently that wasn’t enough. 

A sigh passed her painted lips and she sat down on a chair. 

“What is a beautiful young lady like you doing by yourself?” a cheeky voice called from behind her.

Hermione looked over her bare shoulder and a hot flush danced across her cheeks as a grinning Fred Weasley looked back. In the past couple of months, Hermione had begun to be awkward around him, and to avoid the awkwardness, she decided to avoid him, yet somehow, he always seemed to find her.

He came further into the light and the Witch chewed the inside of her cheek. Holy Gods he looked good.

His hair was slightly long, reaching the end of his ear and… insane. It curled and swirled like solar explosions from the sun, fanning out insanely around him and Hermione couldn’t count how many times she had dreamed of grabbing it between her hands. He had a light sprinkle of stubble across his cheeks, obviously he had shaved a few days before. His brown eyes flickering mischievously in the dim light as he took in Hermione before him.

She felt bare beneath his gaze, as if he were inspecting her, so she decided to inspect him back. Her eyes wandered over his face, the constellation of freckles on his face distorted by the long, jagged scar that trailed down to his clavicle.

Her eyes moved from his visage to his body. Like his sister, his dress robes were that of Muggles and Hermione couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. His wore a black suit, with a white shirt and a black bow tie.

“Whatcha staring at?” he asked, voice husky.

Hermione didn’t know it was humanly possible to get any redder, “ Nothing, you just look good,” she mumbled, ducking her head.

In a few strides, he was close to her, so close that her nose almost touched his chest and he felt her warm breath. His calloused hands tilted her chin upwards, locking brown eyes with brown.

For him, the whole galaxy swirled in those irises.

“Have you seen yourself ‘Mione?”

He watched as her cheeks stained red and she tucked and a strand of straightened hair behind her ear. A smirked spread across his lips as he realized she was trying to divert the conversation.

“Shut up,” was all she could manage.

Fred let his hand reluctantly drop from the Witch's face, but he didn’t step back, “Back to my original question, what are you doing all by your lonely lonesome?”

Hermione shrugged, “ No one wanted to dance with me.”

Fred dropped his mouth open theatrically, “But, look at you!” he glanced her up and down, eyes hungry like a wolf.

Hermione squirmed helplessly.

Behind them, the band play a soft tempo.

The tall Wizard looked at the short Witch below him, and suddenly, Hermione felt large hands sprawled across the bare, tanned skin of Hermione’s back and heat erupted through her blood, heart pounding in her ears.

“Let’s dance,”

“I - I can’t dance,” Merlin, she hated how weak she sounded, but her knees were trembling and her skin was aflame. 

Fred leaned in close, his breath fanning across the dip of Hermione’s collar bone and whispered, “ Don’t worry, neither can I,”

And just like that, all her fears washed away. The pair locked eyes and Hermione nodded, arms finding themselves around Fred’s neck, his large hands placed on her waist, drawing her close.

They found a pace and swayed slowly to the music in the background. Body’s so close to touching, yet the small space between them felt like a cavern to them both. 

Fred was like the Sun. He drew her in and in, he was beautiful and bright,, but she knew he could exploded at any moment and then swirl into this black hole that would destroy her. But Hermione wasn’t scared.

The music stopped and the two stared at each other.

Hermione felt her eyes drift from his, to his plump lips and watched as they parted. 

“M’ione, don’t look at me like that,” he whispered gruffly.

She said nothing, instead, slowly drifted her trembling hands from his neck to his thick hair. A moan caught in her throat as she ran her fingers through the crimson silk, and when they fell out of it, she ran them through the mass again and again and again. Fred closed his eyes, head dipping dangerously low.

“Please,” his voice was weak.

Hermione let one hand part ways with his hair and instead, rolled it gently down his face. Her fingers lingered on the smooth skin of his scar and he sighed into her embrace. They travelled to his lips, running them over the plump, pink skin.

The Witch leaned up and caught her lips with his own.

Her whole world exploded.

He devoured her hungrily, hands grasping her hips almost painfully tight, as she gripped his hair in her hands, pulling roughly so that he gasped against her lips. She had pictured this so many times, it was almost surreal. 

Gods she was on fire.

Fred pulled back first, lips plump, “ If we don’t stop, I - I can’t… shit,” he couldn’t string a sentence together as he stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed, eyelids heavy with lust, lips parted and swollen - she was beautiful.

“Take me to yours,” was all she whispered.

Fred almost choked on the air.

“ ‘M’ione a- “

“Fred Weasley, do not turn down a girl asking you to sleep with her,” she answered firmly, hands grasping his cheeks, “ I want this,” eyes searched his,” I want you, I - I have wanted you for a while now,” She laughed in embarrassment at her confession but Fred squirmed.

“But it’s me,”

“Exactly, it’s you,”

They locked eyes and Hermione nodded. The background curled together, colors become one and twisting and combining before returning to shapes that mirrored the living room of Fred’s house.

The witch felt her breath grow heavy as she stared into Fred’s eyes. She couldn’t handle her intense feelings and had to close the gap between them. Their lips locked together once again.

Heat surged through her veins, spreading from her head to her toes, enhancing all her senses. She was fully aware of the rough skin of Fred’s hands dancing across her back before coming to rest on her hips, pulling her close - so close. 

A groan parted her lips, and Fred slipped his tongue into her mouth. It was sloppy, rushed and passionate, but it was everything Hermione had dreamed about -- even more.

When they eventually parted, both were panting slightly.

“Hermione, are you su-” 

She cut him off by untying her dress. The midnight fabric fell to floor painfully slow, leaving the Witch in her black undergarments. She watched as Fred’s face grew red, his eyes flickering over her body in a hungry like fashion. She had imagined that she would feel awkward, want to hide the slight bit of soft she had on her legs and stomach, but with Fred, she felt right. The Witch knew he loved every part of her.

The Wizard felt his heart pounding dangerously fast, threatening to break from its bony encasement as he stared at Hermione. Her breasts hanging freely, round and plump, her soft, golden curvy legs making his head swoon. She had light brown freckles spread across her shoulders and thighs and Fred wanted to kiss every single one of them, to let her know she was his glowing little star in the darkness of his mind.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, feeling uncharacteristically brave, “ Are you just gonna stand there?”

That was all Fred needed to hear. His lips were back on hers, smoothing over them roughly as his hands rolled down her cheek, spread across her collarbone before trialing the swell of her breast. His touch was feather like and it drove Hermione close to insanity as goosebumps exploded across her skin and a heat grew between her legs. She moaned into the kiss.

Fred held a beast in his hand softly, kneading it gently. He broke the kiss, glancing swiftly at Hermione’s hooded eyes, smiling smugly at how he had made her feel, before lowering his head.

Hermione gasped in blissful pain as Fred’s mouth closed over one of her rosy nubs, his fingers pinching the other. Her hands threaded back through his hair, and she threw her head back, a moan passing her lips. Never before had someone treated her so preciously, worshiping her body as if she were more than a one night shag.

Her and Krum had not slept together, but they had kissed and messed around. His kisses were rough, like the man himself, and short. His touch was aggressive and in some ways, it had hurt the young Witch.

With Ron, everything had been awkward at the start. He hadn’t known how to pleasure her and after a while, their kisses slipped from passionate to chaste, his touches becoming less and less until he just started vanishing. 

So, as Fred honoured her body, Hermione felt her nerves scream out in pleasure, heat building up.

She pushed his head back, panting slightly, “ This isn’t fair,” she gestured to his dress robes before running her hands up his chest and under the Blazer part of his suit and pushing it off. Fred watched her with warm eyes, his own hands pulling the pins from her hair, allowing it to spill down her back.

Pulling loose his tie, Hermione tossed it casually behind her, working on the buttons of his crisp shirt. When it was open, she slipped her hands under the fabric, dragging her fingers across Fred’s dotted skin, feeling the flat panels of his stomach until she pushed it off. Her hands rested on his broad shoulders as she took him in.

“You’re beautiful,” she heard herself whisper.

Fred chuckled, “ Not every day someone calls a man ‘beautiful’”

She planted a kiss on his collarbone, nipping it slightly before pressing her tongue to it to sooth the sharp pain, “ What would you like me to say, you look stunning?”

A groan fell from the Redhead’s mouth, Hermione felt it as she continued her slow attack on his neck, “ There are more masculine words one could u-use to describe a man,”

“Who said you were a man?”

Fred growled, picking Hermione up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kiss his jawline, enjoying the feeling of his bare chest pressed against hers. The Wizard brought them to the sofa, he sat back on it, keeping Hermione in his grasp.

“If I wasn’t a man, I wouldn’t be able to make you moan,” he answered gruffly, fingers curled under her underwear.

She laughed, her own fingers starting on the zipper of his pants, “ I think you’ll find Mr Weasley, you’re the one making all the noise,” She rose a little to allow him pull down the underwear, “ But if you carry on, that might change,” she blushed.

Fred aided her in pushing down his trousers, “ Trust me, it’ll change,”

Hermione’s cheeks flared as she looked at the tent in Fred’s boxers. He reached out for her hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing her palm gently. The Witch’s pulse was racing.

“We don’t have to, Merlin, the fact we got this far is enough for me,” he told her softly.

But Hermione couldn’t quench the undying thirst she had for him, and the feel for her to be complete. She shot him a smile, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“No I want to,” she mumbled, fingers slipping themselves into his boxers and pulling them down, leaving Fred bare.

He looked her in the eye, hands on either side of her waist, “ I hope you know what you’re doing, because after this, I’m not letting you go,”

“Good thing I’m not intending on leaving,”

The pair inhaled softly. 

The Witch positioned herself above him, and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered herself down onto him. In that moment, elements became real, he was fire and her earth and when they joined as one, hot lava was created. It poured its way through Hermione’s body, setting her aflame as she felt him inside of her.

Fred gasped, leaning forward to kiss her neck.

Hermione whined as she moved, Fred’s hands supporting her. He was holding her close, as his lips caressed her skin, her fingers grasping at him, trying to hold onto something for support. It was as if she were going up in flames.

A series of curses slipped from Fred’s mouth as he trembled beneath her. She watched him, eyes closed, mouth parted and skin flushed and shiny with a sheen of sweat. She couldn’t think of a better word than beautiful to describe him.

Heat was building up in Hermione’s lower belly, Fred’s thrusts becoming uneven and sloppy. More and more moans and sighs passed her lips, joining his as they both got closer and closer to their high.

And when she got there, Hermione couldn’t help but scream his name, it was sweet on her lips and now ingrained into her mind and heart. She felt him release into her, hot and fresh and he groaned gutturally something that was similar to her name.

Both were covered into sweat, and Hermione fell against Fred’s hard chest, allowing him to encircle her with his large arms. She could feel his rapid heartbeat through his chest and smiled to herself, feeling proud of getting him like this.

“God’s ‘Mione,” he gasped, “Wow,”

She laughed, rising herself from him and staring into his eyes, “ Thanks,” she laughed.

He threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed them softly, “Let’s go to bed,”

“Bit late, don’t you think,”

Fred scowled at her, before picking her up as if she were nothing. He carried her into his room, dropping hers softly onto the bouncy bed. She pulled back the covers, allowing the Wizard to clamber in beside her and pull her close. One hand trailed its way up its arm, making constellations out of his freckles, the other placed over his heart.

His arm was bent so her head could rest on it, the other draped lazily across her waist, holding her close.

And for the first time in months, Hermione no longer felt alone.

And Fred had a restful night.


End file.
